Pressure
by Jayzeer
Summary: While MOOP climbs to the top, can the group handle the pressure of stardom, especially Kenny McCormick, whom has never had a chance to live the wealthy and admiring life? KENNY'S POV
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** While MOOP climbs to the top, can the group handle the pressure of stardom, especially Kenny McCormick, whom has never had a chance to live the wealthy and admiring life?

**Disclaimers:** All characters and other related logo belongs to Matt Stone and Trey Parker.

* * *

Hi, my names Kenny McCormick. I'm a sixteen year old male, blond with blue eyes, and I'd like to be your sex slave.

No, just kidding. (Unless you'd like me to.) That's usually how my greetings start out. Simple, casual, and of course showing my perversion. It's pretty much how I'm known through out town. Ever since I was eight years old I've been like that. Little do the pedestrians of South Park know, I have more sides than being a skirt lifter. I happen to be caring, especially more caring than plenty of people in this god forsaken town. I happen to care about what others have to say, when what they say has logic meaning; not just because they like to hear their own voice. I actually listen, unlike half of the students at South Park High. I'm a whole lot knowledgable than 99, I'd say.

Enough about my characteristics. I have plenty of friends. Only three are particularly close to me though; Stan, Kyle and Butters. Stan is a defiant jock; but not a typical one at that. Stan and I share the same traits; caring, smart and understanding. Stan can be really stupid though, I find myself doubting his logic at times. He is the typical boy though, helping at putting the male race to shame at my side; completely girl crazy. He's been dating Wendy on and off for the past nine years. As for Kyle, he's a hot head. He tends to get mad at me easily, but then again, I do find myself getting in trouble easily, so I guess I can't blame him. Kyle is the most likely to come to me with his problems though. We help each other out a lot, sacrificing our time to help aid one another. That's what friends do, right? As for Butters, he's just... well.. Butters is Butters. Stupid and oblivious. Despite these traits of his, you can't help but love the little retard. He's always there for you when you're done, ready to pick you up and help you up onto your horse. He's not appreciated enough for how kind he is, and I sometimes feel horrible for that.

Our group pretty much runs the school, to put it bluntly, and a bit self centered. But it's true. Sure, there are plenty of people on our black list, but there are plenty of people willing to do back flips just to get a simple greeting. I don't know how we managed to get like this, and stay the same way as we've always been. Maybe I'm the only one that really noticed our status. Being popular definately has it's advantages. Sure, I'm not as popular as Stan or Kyle, but I'm up there in a close enough rank. We all still manage to get picked on (I did mention a black list, didn't I?) but we could care less. If we wanted, we could kick them in the nuts and move on with our lives. But somehow, we remain civil... besides Broflovski (Sometimes he gets so angry, I swear I can see steam rise from his ifiery/i hair.) Regardless of the power we have, we all remain together as best friends.

We have our competition though, "Craig and Those Guys", as we call them. Funny thing is, we're still all friends, yet we find ourselves as opponents. I honestly think it's totally stupid to have these cliques fight for the title, but you know, whatever. This is High School for you. It's expected. We always hang out with each other outside of school; Me, Stan, Kyle, Butters, Craig, Clyde, Tweek, Thomas, Token, Jimmy and sometimes Timmy and even Cartman (if we're lucky to get away from Eric.) We always hang out at our usual spot, an abandoned little shack in the woods by Stark's Pond. We first found it when we were at least nine or ten. We were carelessly wondering around the woods, pretending to be playing hunters. Token and Jimmy came across the shack when they were "chasing a rabid deer that tried to bite their heads off". At first, we thought it was some stupid little abandoned building that meant nothing. But of course, Stan went into his determination phase; "_Come you guys, if we fix it up it can be rad!_" he told us. "_We just have to put some hard work into it, but it'll be worth it in the end!_" He eventually motivated us enough to get to work. It took us months, maybe even a year to get it done. Through out time though, we slowly added a few things to it, replacing things to make it more grown up and look like a group of teenagers inhabited it. Craig forced us to remove the "No Girls" sign when we were thirteen. A few of us had no problem with it, but a couple were still in the iEww, girls!/i phase. I don't think I was ever like that.. Now it's filled with posters of the women we drool over, our favorite band posters (Funeral For A Friend, The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, those kinds of bands.) There's a couch pushed up against one of the walls that we found at the dump. We had to clean it up obviously; it was disgusting before we did. Since half of us have jobs, we pitched in on a miniature fridge, so we have one of those sitting in there with a bunch of sodas and crap, maybe even a bottle or two of beer... You don't want to see us when we're drunk;

We all sit outside of our hang out, a fire crackling in front of us. We sit around it, holding out thin metal bars with marshmallows roasting on them, the smoke rising to the peaks of the sky, licking against the brightly shining stars. A few people are missing from the circle, Craig, Clyde and Stan. The rest of us talk about pointless things. Our conversations are put to a pause though as the three finally arrive. They all hold bags, all of us hooting at them to tell us what they got. They turn the bags over, bags of chips and candy crashing to the ground in front of us. We all laugh, Cartman snagging a bag of Cheesy Poofs for himself and already shoving the snack down his throat. Craig yanks a bag from Stan's grasp, Stan whining at him, saying "I wanted to show them!" Craig doesn't listen though, removing the grocery bag and revealing a package of bottled beer. We all gasp in shock at this, soon to gather around him and take one for ourselves.

"How did you get this?" I had asked him, studying my glass carefully. I pop the cap off, taking a sip and shuddering at the rank smell."I snuck into my dads stash," Craig responded. "He's loaded!""You think this is a good idea?" Token asked, staring at his own bottle with an odd look."Of course it is!" Clyde hollered. "We're fifteen, we're men! We can drink and get away with it."Kyle rolled his eyes. "No you can't dumb ass.""Well we should be able to." I retorted, taking a quick swig of my beer. The others laughed loudly and cheered me on. I drank half of the alcohol before having to pull my lips away from it. It was horrible! I smacked my lips together, a disgusted expression plastered across my face. "That was gross, dude!" I cried.They all laugh. "Don't be such a pussy." Cartman hisses."I'm not a pussy, fat ass." I snapped back. He didn't respond, just remained listening to the rest of us chatter.  
We eventually finished off our first bottles, Craig whipping out the second package, all of us screaming with joy at the sight of it. We eventually calm down after an hour of nothing but drinking. We all sit around the fire, Stan strumming at his guitar (I swear he takes that thing with him everywhere!). He sounds a lot better when he's not drunk. He doesn't sound horrible though, or at least not to my numb ears. Kyle is gently tapping at his thighs with his palms, helping out with a beat. The song they're weakly preforming resembles _Are You Gonna Be My Girl_ by The Jets. I try to ignore Jimmy and Butter's snoring as I try to sing it. The others chuckle at me under their breath, and I find myself giggling a long with them as I continue singing it. I'm surprised to hear one of them say "You guys aren't half bad."I stop singing. "You should hear us when we're sober." They all break out into laughter.

That's when Stan, Kyle, Cartman (Yes, lard ass.) and I decided to OFFICIALLY start a band. Stan is the lead guitarist, Kyle the bass, Cartman on drums, and I'm obviously the singer. Sure, we had started a band a long time ago, when we were eight, but that was old news. We never really fell through and we were never really dedicated to the band. Granted, we gave up. Now we're in a band once again, and we continue to be titled iMoop/i, as stupid as it is. We decided to carry it on because it was what really got us started and on our feet. So we go by Moop. We've even managed to get a few gigs, but only small shows at the local club, or at the dances. The first gig will never be as good as our others though. The adrenaline in my veins, the cheering. It was great;Kyle and I stare through a slit between the curtain and the wall, watching the opening band. They're amazing. We both back up, shaking my head. "I don't know if I can do this!" I squeak."Oh shut up, Kenny." Stan teases. "You can do it, just give yourself confidence. We'll all do great.""Yeah," Kyle agrees. "Just don't forget the lyrics.""I'll try not to." I huff, looking away and back the stage. The song ends way too fast, and the band is sent back stage. The announcer talks to the crowd, asking "Was that great or what?!" they all answer with a booming "Yes!" Then he announces us, biting onto my lip and turning back to my three friends. Despite the nervous tension, I flash a grin and they do as well. Kyle thrusts his fists out. We all take it, smiling, all though Cartman hesitated and took it last."Well guys?" he says. "Are we in it?"  
"To win it!" Stan and I shout, Eric grumbling it off key. We merge on stage once the crowd settles. I take my place at the microphone, my confidence bowling to nothing but puddy. My hands sweat, thus, I wipe them on my black jeans before putting them to the mic. I stare at the crowd, gulping down the hard lump in my throat. The beginning music of _Into Oblivion_ by Funeral For a Friend begins, my heart racing anymore. Cartman has already started the drumming, and soon enough Kyle and Stan jump into action with their guitars, bass and electric vocalizing each other brilliantly. Then it's my turn."The days I've felt alone. And the sea, it brings me back again. So that I can see my wife. And I can see my child. Home, I'm home, it never changes, same old faces, same old places." I sing, leading to the chorus in no time. A grin is on my face as my hips sway back and forth to the beat. "I stared into oblivion and found my own. I stared into oblivion, into oblivion." I find myself dancing gently to the song, smiling at the crowd who seems to be enjoying our performance so far. That causes my heart to burst. "Find in me the home, that you have never known. Find in us the faith. The faith to bring you home. I stared into oblivion and found my own. I stared into oblivion and found my own. I stared into oblivion, and found my own reflection there." The song slows down, Stan strumming gently now. "Home. Now that I'm coming home, will you be the same as when I saw you last? Tell me how much time has passed?" I repeat it one last time before it picks up again. "Home. Now that I'm coming home, will you be the same as when I saw you last? Tell me how much time has passed? I stared into oblivion and found my own. I stared into oblivion and found my own. I stared into oblivion and found my own. I stared into oblivion and found my own reflection there." My singing cuts off, the guitars fading away. It's over now. The crowd jumps, shouting at us. They liked it, they really, really liked it. I can tell I'm smiling like a complete idiot, Stan and Kyle rushing to me and both taking hold of my shoulder."Dude, that was sick!" Stan announces.  
I beam. "That was kick ass, that's what it was!"

I loved the adrenaline, the feeling I got when I was on stage. This was then I found out that singing was what I wanted to do, being a band and knowing that everyone loved our talents. All though I still get the same reactions and the same feelings, nothing will ever be as great as the first time we preformed on stage.The Marsh's really love that we're doing this, that we're so dedicated, especially Randy. He was especially ecstatic to know that his son and friends were into this, started a band, and were even trying to get somewhere with it. As for Kyle's mom, she's not as proud. I mean sure, she's proud, but she wished she was doing something else with his life, and she made it completely obvious. Ike absolutely loved it. He begged us every time we practiced if he could join. "Maybe I can help you sing, Kenny! The guitar looks easy, Stan! All you gotta do is bang at a drum, Eric!" We always flat out say no. Poor little guy. As for my parents, they don't really pay attention to the band. They're always too concerned with fighting and having sex to care about what I do. Whenever I practice, they usually tell me to shut the hell up and join the football team or something more manly. Well fuck them, I don't need them...I guess that's all you really to know for now. I think I've tortured you enough with my life story. I guess we should continue on to the next one, right?My hands grip the steering wheel tightly, my tongue sticking out with a determined look settled in my eyes. I stare through the wind shield. The driving instructor, Mrs Joyce, sits in the passenger seat. "You might want to start the engine." she tells me."I was getting to that." I remark quickly. I take hold of the keys, revving the engine and listening as it roars to life. I grin, shaking my shoulders back and forth as a little giddy dance of triumph, all though people do that every day. I place my foot on the gas, pressing down on it. The car jerks forward, Mrs Joyce thrusted forward and hitting against her seat. "Sorry!" I yelp, my excitement draining from my face. I gently tap it this time, letting it go every five seconds."Just hold it down gently." she says. "You don't have to let go so much."  
I nod, inhaling and do as she tells me. I decided to pick up the speed a bit, going average. We come up to one of the obstacles, having to avoid the cones. I stare at the bright orange objects. I go through the first two smoothly, but the third one hits against the tire, squished under the pressure. The fourth replicates its sibling, making the car jump, just like the passengers inside. I swerve at the others, slamming my eyes shut at one time. How stupid am I?! The teachers gasps, shouting at me to open my eyes. When I do, I gasp, slamming on the breaks. I nearly crashed the car into a light post. Mrs Joyce turns her head to me. I blink, giving an innocent grin. "Heh, sorry about that. Can we try again.""Not... not today."I frown, nodding. "Right." We change seats, Mrs Joyce parking the car back to its original state. I step from the car, only to run into Stan who is grinning like a doofus. Kyle is the next to catch up, Cartman far in the distance, huffing at them to wait up. I blink, confused. "What is it?""We got another gig!" Stan yelps. Kyle nods, grinning with his fists balled near his face, trembling with excitement."Tell him the rest!" Kyle commands."It's battle of the bands, and there's going to be an agent there." he adds."So?" I say. "That's one in a million chance.""Yeah," Kyle says. "But if we win, we have that chance." I sigh, folding my arms."It's really doubtful.""Brighten up!" Stan demands.Kyle is still all giddy. "If we put on our best show, and if we win, then maybe he'll consider it, dude! Just imagine it! Having chicks scream out your name all over the world." he gives a fake swoon."Really dude, we at least gotta try!" Stan says, trying to break my shell."I dunno.." I sigh. Cartman finally makes it to us, panting with his hands on his knees and hunched over. I spread my arms out, gesturing to my thoughts. "What if we don't? What if we don't win and what if we doesn't want us?""Well then we're failure." Stan says bluntly. I scoff. "And we'll keep trying."We begin walking now, all of us but Cartman huddled near each other as we converse. "Well?" Kyle says. "Are we gonna?"I stare at them with a doubtful look. The two stare back at me, the glistening blue and green finally making me cringe and look away. "Fine!" I say. The two lighten up. "We can enter, but if we don't make it, I get to kick you two gaywods in the nuts."Stan flicks his wrist likes its no big deal. "That won't be needed."  
I laugh. "Whatever you say."

**End of _Chapter 1_**

**Authors Comment**: Rofl, sorry, no slash this time (or will it change? ;o) xD Also, I know the beginning may be a bit boring, but please stick with it! I'll be adding up the second chapter soon (:


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary:** While MOOP climbs to the top, can the group handle the pressure of stardom, especially Kenny McCormick, whom has never had a chance to live the wealthy and admiring life?**  
Disclaimers:** All characters and other related logo belongs to Matt Stone and Trey Parker.

**Chapter 2**

A cigarette is carefully wedged between my dry lips. I inhale the smoke as I lean against the back wall of my dump of a house, staring blankly at the fence. Stan is sitting on the short brick wall, a couple of withered potted plants sitting on it. His guitar is in his hands, strumming gently and stopping every god damn five seconds, getting a chord wrong and starting from the top. I take the bud in between my index and middle fingers, pulling it away from my lips and exhaling the smoke. Both of our faces are pale from the chilled weather. I didn't even need to this cigarette to make smoke come from my mouth "So when exactly is this?" I question.

"In a month or so." Stan responds.

My eyebrows furrow. "So you decided to tell me just now? Don't you get months ahead of time?"

"Well," he answers, looking up at me. "we just found out recently. How can we tell you ahead of time when we didn't even know?" Stan gives a smirk, looking back down to the acoustic and trying to complete the chorus to _Prayer Of The Refugee_ by Rise Against. I watch his fingers move carefully on the frets, swiftly holding it down and moving when needed, the pick striking each chord as told. He eventually messes up, letting a groan of anger from his voice box and slapping the side of the instrument.

I sigh at this, inhaling another breath of nicotine. "When are the others gonna get here? We need to practice already."

"Soon." Stanley answers, biting at his lip. I drop my cigarette, stomping it into the ground and shoving my hands into my jacket pockets. As I walk to him, I pull my hood over my head, the fur inside bringing life back to my cheeks. I sit down next to him, nearly curled in a ball where I sit, it's so damn cold. I watch him now, the boy consecrating on every move he makes. It takes him a few times before he finally manages to get the chords right, giving the nice beat that actually sounds good this time. He grins at the guitar in triumph, stroking the side of it once he finishes the minute long tune. "Fuck." he says. "I'm horrible."

I laugh. "No you're not."

"It took me too long to get that right," he says. "Surely, I must suck pretty bad."

I shake my head, chewing at the side of my mouth. "Nawh." I tell him. I'm honest. "You're really good, Stan, don't beat yourself up over it. I definitely can't do that."

Stan places his arm on the top, rubbing at his chin with his hand, staring at me with an _Oh how I'd like to find this out _look. Given, he speaks; "I bet you could do that." I say.

"No way, dude." I say, throwing my hands up. "I've seen what it does to your fingers; rips those things apart!"

Stan chuckles, shaking his head. "You get use to it, and that's what I get for not using a pick."

"Either way, it still hurts to hold a fret down for too long."

My friend snorts, gesturing to the object. "Try it."

"No."

"Try it."

"No!"

"Just try it, dude!"

I purse my lips. "What will I get in return?"

"Well-"

"Nothing!" I hiss. "Just fucked up fingers and a broken heart because I can't accomplish it."

"Don't be such a fag." Stan shoves the guitar on my lap. "Just try it! At least you'll be able to say 'Yeah, I got to play Stanley Marsh's acoustic guitar. Yeah, the one he wrote top charted songs with.' once I get famous."

I glare at him. "You're so stupid." I push it back. "I don't want to."

"Try!" he whines.

"Do. Not. Want." I say back.

He shoves it back on my lap. I sigh, finally snatching it from him and positioning myself. "No, no. Like this." he takes my hand and moves it on the neck of the guitar properly. He hands me the pick, so I take it, staring at the guitar with a frown. He takes my middle finger and places it on that really thin one (he's calling it 'e'), on the third fret. Stan gets to his feet, crouching in front of me and moving my other hand on the first two thin chords, thumb caressing the second one. I inhale. "You're going to play these notes over and over. At least five times. Do it now." I nod and play it. The first time I strum, the chord buzzes and screams. I bite my lip, Stan scoffing. He tells me to hold the fret down harder, so I do. My finger tip is pain, not yet adjusted to the feeling. I don't get the chords right yet, so he takes it from me and shows me himself. The songs is simple, yet pretty. It's not the greatest thing I've ever heard, but good enough for a beginner. My eyes narrow once he's repeated it at least two times. I'm sucking on my finger, a line going across it. "See? It's that simple."

"Then how come I can't get it?"

"Because you're not confident with it." he hands the guitar back to me, and I go straight into position. "Remember the chords?"

I grimace. "No."

Stan sits on his knees. "Three, two, three, two, three, five, three, two, three, two three, seven, five, three, two three, five, two, three, two, three. Simple! Now try it." The numbers he tells me all jumble in my mind, spiraling confusingly. I purse my lips, staring at the chords and beginning. I'm slow at it, messing up every time. I don't give up though, Stan nodding every time I get the notes right. "Good... See, you're not that bad!"

I stop, looking at him. "I think I'll stick to singing." I flip the guitar to a stand, handing it to him by the neck. He takes it, slinging it over his back. I begin to whip out another cigarette, causing Stan to stare at me. I look back. Through clenched teeth, also while trying to light the item, I say: "What is it?"

"Cigarettes will fuck up your voice."

I roll my eyes, breathing in the smoke and puffing it out at him. He coughs and tries to sway it away from him. "Ah well, it's an addiction."

Stan scowls, looking away. "All right, but when you can't sing anymore, let a lone speak, don't come crying to me."

"I won't need to," I remark. "Because it won't happen."

"Sure it won't."

I open the gate on the side of the house, both of us walking down the side walk to the front of the house. Kyle had just gotten out of his moms car, waving to her and turning around as she drives away. "Hey guys." Kyle greets, walking to us with his bass packed away in it's case.

Stan lifts his chin as a 'manly hello'. "Where's fat ass?"

"I don't know." Kyle answers.

"Let's just hope he's not walking here." I huff. "Or we'll be waiting for him for a week or two."

We all laugh at this, quieting down as Cartman pulls up on the side of the curb. I listen to him complain to his mom in that annoying voice he gives, slamming the door behind him and trudging to us. "Let's get started."

We all turn, walking up the dirve way and to my garage. "I'm sure a 'Sorry I'm late' is in order." Kyle says.

"Hey, you were just as late." I recall.

Kyle's eyes narrow. "Hey, at least I'm not smoking."

"That's what I said!" Stan gasps.

Cartman huffs. "You guys are such bitches." he says. Stan and Kyle glare at him. "Smoking is good for the soul."

I cackle, Kyle's face heating up. "Calm the fuck down, Kyle." I say. Kyle exhales angrily, looking forward. We all stop and I lift the garage door up, the large thing creaking and coming to a good enough height. We step in, Cartman taking his seat at the drum set, Kyle and Stan setting up their instruments. I plug the microphone in, untangling the wires beforehand. I take hold of it, looking back at them over my shoulder. "What song?"

"We should probably practice iOh Gravity/i." Stan recommends.

I nod. "Right." I twist back around.

Cartman bangs at the drums now, the guitar starting with an upbeat tune. I tap my hands against the microphone stand to the beat, then, I begin to flow the lyrics out. It only takes a short while until we reach the chorus, all of us getting into it. Like always, I'm giving a good show, slightly dancing to the song as I sing the words into the device. Stan jumps up and down a few times as he strums roughly at the guitar, Kyle having a calm and cool look to him as he plays the bass gently, the two completely opposite. Cartman is just his self as he hits against the drums, putting aggression into it. Moop successfully, once again, drowns out the sound of my parents yelling at each other, while Kevin is stuck there to listen to it. Sometimes, he comes to the garage to listen to us, keeping quiet though as he watches our progression. He never asks me to join, he never pesters me about us, yet I can tell he wishes he could. A few of the neighborhood kids sit outside on the curb of their house and talk, listening to us at the same time. Good publicity, I'd say. "iWhy can't we seem to keep it together? Oh! Gravity! Why can't we seem to pull it together now? La, Lala, La La La. Lets pull it together!/i" I end the song, the background music fading. I jump up, pleased. "We got better with it!" I announce, swirling around to see them.

"It better not be the song we're entering though." Eric says.

"Of course not," I say, waving my hand in a 'Next!' motion. I turn back around, jumping to see Wendy, Bebe and Kelly standing at the beginning of the driveway. They giggle to each other, Bebe pushing Wendy forward. Wendy gently swats her, walking forward.

"Stan? Can I talk to you?" she questions, giving a smile.

Stan nods, setting his guitar down and rushing to Wendy at once. He takes hold of one of her hands as they stride off to the other girls. I stare at them all, Kelly watching me carefully. Then she gives me a soft smile, pulling some of her hair behind her ear. I smile back, before having to look away from blushing so much. I turn to Kyle and Cartman, both of them tittering. I glare.

"Shut up." I snap.

"Kelly's just lucky you don't throw up whenever you're in love with someone like Stan does." Kyle mawks.

I growl. "One, I'm not in love. Two, Stan doesn't even do that anymore! Three, shut the hell up you retard!" Kyle laughs at me, shaking his head and setting his bass down on its stand, folding his arms.

"Whatever you say, dude."

Cartman looks confused. "Didn't you already date that chick?"

"Yeah," I say with a shrug. "Not for a long time though."

"How come?" he asks. "Was she bad in bed?"

Kyle rolls his eyes at this. I scowl, ready to pummel him, but I'm interrupted as Stan takes hold of my shoulder and swirls me around. "I was just talking with Wendy-"

"I noticed." I tease.

Stan narrows his eye brows. I suck in my lips, showing him that I'll say no more. "She wants me to know if you'll go on a double date."

I gape. "With who?"

"Kelly."

I close my mouth, glancing over to the girls who talk among themselves. I stare at Kelly, looking away once she glances my way. I look back at Stan. "I don't know.."

"Why not?" Stan complains. "I thought you liked her!"

"Sure I do." I answer. "I just.. I don't know if I have the guts."

"Guts to do what?"

"Have sex." Cartman smirks. Kyle takes hold of one of the drum sticks and chucks it at him. Cartman gasps, dodging it. "Fucking jew!" he shouts. Kyle sticks his tongue out, looking back up to Stan and I.

"To go on a date with her."

"You'll be with Wendy and me. There's nothing to worry about it." he insists.

"What if I don't know what to say? What if I freeze up?"

Stan shifts. "You've been on dates before, dude! You've had girlfriends, why should this one be so different?"

"Just something about her." I say sheepishly.

Stan laughs under his breath. He nudges my shoulder, giving a grin. "Well? What'ya say?"

I rolls my eyes. "Fine, fine!" Stan brightens up at once. "I'll do it! But on one condition." I grab my friends collar, pulling him closer to me. Stan doesn't look scared one bit, more like he's holding in laughter. "No leaving us a lone for us to _talk _so you can either; A: Get us a lone. B: Go make out in the car. C: Have sex in the car."

Stan snorts. "That won't happen."

"Yet." Cartman says, lifting his eye brows up and down.

Stan doesn't answer, simply lifting a shoulder, showing his agreement with Cartman for once. I drop my hand, weakly laughing. Stan departs from us, walking back to Wendy with his hands stuffed in his back pockets. They both talk for a second, Wendy wrapping her arms around her boyfriends waist and pecking his chin, as high as she can get. She places her own hands on his in his pockets, giving a grin as he leans down to kiss her. I smile at this; this might sound gay and all, but I can't help but notice how perfect they are for each other. I want that..  
The two withdraw from each other, Wendy and Bebe waving to us all before walking down the side walk with my future date at their side. She waves to the others as well, then drops her hand and grins at me. Bebe irrupts into a giggle fit, Kelly blushing and looking back to her friends. They disappear from eye sight. Stan marches back up to us, arms folded.

"So what's the deal with you and Wendy, anyway, dude?" Kyle is the first to ask.

"What do you mean?" Stan blinks. "We're dating, you know this."

"I know, I know." Kyle speaks. "I mean, do you guys... you know..."

It takes Stan only a couple seconds to catch on, lifting his left shoulder. "It's none of your business."

"I bet you are!" I grin imp-like. "Just admit it."

Stan scowls. "No."

"No you aren't, or no you won't admit it?" Kyle cuts in.

Stan fumes. "No to _No I won't tell you assholes_!"

"Okay, okay." I say, putting my hands up, gesturing to back off. "You and Wendy don't do anything together-"

"I never said that." Stan murmurs.

I gape. "Tell us!"

"Shut the hell up!"

"I bet you won't tell us because you really haven't gotten to at least second base."

"_Second base_?" Stan says, giving me a look as if I just slipped out a 'Timmeh!'. "What are we, eight?"

"You might as well be." Kyle smirks.

Stan shoots him a glare, Kyle ducking down from a hit. Luckily for him, Stan doesn't hit him.. Or at least the first attempt he doesn't. Kyle rubs his forehead, scowling back at our friend. I stuff my hands in my pockets, looking away innocently. "Okay, whatever, Stan." I sigh. "You can keep whatever you do with Wendy to yourself."

"Thank you."

"But we have a right to assume the worse." I look at him now, giving an angelic smile. He holds the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.

"Sometimes I really hate you guys."

"D'aww, don't say that." I push my bottom lip out.

Stan opens his eyes to look at me. "That look doesn't even work with chicks, so don't try it."

"Works on your mom." Stan gasps at this. I let out a yelp of a laugh, dodging his fist. He still chases after me, trying to grab my jacket and yank me back, but he never succeeds in this. I stop running once I get behind Cartman. "You can't hurt me! I'll just have Cartman eat you!"

"HEY!" Eric yelps.

I shrug at him. "It's true, you know."

He looks away, mumbling under his breath.

Stan stands in front of the drum set, hunched over with a steady posistion. He looks like he's about to kick my ass. But after a couple seconds, he straightens, backing up with a shake of his head. "Now that I think of it, it'd be impossible to go through Cartman to get to you."

"'EY!"

Kyle and I arrupt in laughter, and soon enough so does our black-haired best friend. Cartman just hisses insults under his breath.

Stan invited me to his house to spend the night. So I happily accepted, mainly because not only was he my friend, but also because I was sick of having to fall asleep in that crap of a house while listening to my crap of a mom and dad 'apologizing' to each other.

I set up my blanket on the floor next to his bed, soon collapsing on it in exhaustion. My face sinks into the pillow. I glance up to see Stan jump over me and land on his bed. I lift my eye brows. "You could have just asked me to move."

"Nawh." He sits on the edge of his bed, folding his legs and placing his palms on his knees. He watches me as I sit up, leaning against his night stand. "Are you looking forward to the date on Saturday?" I give him a worried look. "Well, are you at least not dreading it?"

"I guess so."

"I don't get it, man." he begins his little speech of his, and in the process he slips into another form of sitting, holding up his chin with one of his hands, the other still rested against his knee firmly. "You say like Kelly. But you don't want to go on a date with her."

"I guess it's just.. I'm nervous?"

He scoffs. "That's a stupid excuse."

I glare, but soon enough let it fade and look forward out one of the windows. "I guess I'm just not ready for a girl in my life."

"Oh, please." I look over to him, lifting an eye brow. "You're always swooning all over girls at school, TV, magazines, all that. But you're not ready to have one? To actually have one?"

I grimace. "Sounds horrible, doesn't it?"

"Pretty much."

I purse my lips. "Maybe I'm not a pussy like you. Maybe I'm just looking for a one night stand!"

Stan sees right through me. "I know you well enough, Kenny. You wouldn't do that."

I look away again, folding my arms. "I'll just think about it." I tell him. "If I decide I like Kelly enough, then sure, maybe I'll ask her out."

"Good." Stan answers. "You need a chick." I roll my eyes.

Kelly and I won't look at each other. We both sit in the back seat of Stan's beat-up 2000 Honda Civic. Stan and Wendy talk to each other, the radio lightly playing. I'm surprised we made it through dinner at Bennigans. We talked little though. I guess it was just awkward for us, especially having to deal with little chatter-box ooey-gooey's over in the front seats. Wendy had suggested to go down to the lake and just "gaze upon the marvelous night sky." Ha. I just wanted this damn night to end. We finally come to a stop. Stan pulls his keys from the ignition, jumping out and walking around on the other side and helping his girlfriend out. I watch, glancing over to Kelly. I'm too late to duplicate this act of being a gentlemen, for she's already gotten out. I sigh, stepping out and shutting the door gently behind me. I fold my arms, rubbing my hands up and down my shoulder area. It's freezing! I look over to Kelly, seeing that it's just us now. I guess she's not as smart as I made her out to be, for she wasn't wearing a coat. I guess she just figured we'd be going out to dinner in a nice, warm building instead of hanging around a freezing cold lake. I carefully walk over to her, slipping my own jacket off and revealing my plain black tee. I come up from behind her, putting it gently over her shoulders. She jumps slightly, looking over her shoulder to me. Her shocked expression turns into a soft smile. "Thanks."

"No problem." I reply. "I don't want you to get sick."

Her smile grows, looking away and clearing her throat. I can tell she's blushing, causing me to grin. "So. Hows the band coming a long?"

"Pretty good, thanks." I say. Sometimes I wish people talked to me about other things than the band.. but she has good intentions.

"I think it's really cool that you can sing." she looks back at me, smiling. "I.. can't sing at all."

I narrow my eye brows. "I bet you're great."

She shakes her head, laughing. "No, no." she says. "I guarantee your death if I sing in front of you. And not to mention my shame."

I lean in closely. "Care to put your money where your mouth is?"

She bites her lip. "Not really, but thanks for that offer." she grins. "Besides. You'd win hands down."

"Feh." I glance away. "If your singing voice is just as gorgeous as your normal voice, I bet you'll have no trouble."

Kelly tilts her head slightly, smiling at me. She leans in a bit more, breaking the space between our lips. For a moment, we just sit there, honestly having no clue how to react to each other. Shortly, I place a hand on the low of her back, her own meeting my jaw line. We intensify it just a bit, leaving it gentle. We slowly pull away though, still remaining close in each others grasp. I smile at her, and she returns it in no time.

**End of Chapter 2**

Authors Comments: Keep in mind that I know nothing about Kelly, just what she looks like and that her and Kenny were like.. dating. So I just went ahead and used her for the girlfriend role, mainly because I didn't know who else to use, I didn't want to use an OC. BARE WITH ME PEOPLE XD I don't have much to say about this... besides how perverted I got to be 3

Also, that little song that Stan tries to teach Kenny is a gay little thing I came up with quickly. I'm a "newbie" at acoustic guitar (-pets mine anyway-), so that's like.. the best I can do right now, rofl XD The way I do it sounds a lot better than just strumming a couple times in a row, because I pluck D before I hit the other two chords every time... or something like that, I don't know how to describe it. I recorded it a while ago: /jayzmusiclol2 It sounds a lot better,lately, since I fixed it up. It's still pretty big FAIL.


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